Malrik's blade ignited, flames twisting and writhing until they formed the shape of a burning cross. His eyes locked onto mine as he swung his sword, sending the blazing cross hurtling toward me. The heat scorched the air, the fiery projectile roaring like an infernal beast.

I stepped forward, gripping my axe tightly. With a surge of power, I unleashed my move, [Heavenly Demon Upanishad—First Move: Wrathful Cleave].

My axe carved through the air, tearing into the fiery cross. The impact was explosive—flames erupted and scattered like molten rain, bathing the area in a fiery glow.

But as the blaze faded, my senses screamed a warning. From the remnants of the flame emerged two gargoyles, their bodies sculpted from fire, their molten eyes burning with malevolence. Their claws shimmered like molten steel as they lunged at me in unison.

I had just spent my energy on the Wrathful Cleave. My body wasn’t ready for another technique yet, so I stepped back, narrowly evading the first gargoyle’s claws. The second one was faster. Its fiery talons raked across my side, carving deep wounds. Pain flared as blood sprayed, the crimson streaks almost glowing in the light of the flames.

But instead of weakness, I felt a rush—a twisted excitement. The sting of the injury was like fuel to a fire within me, igniting something darker and stronger. I grinned through the pain, my fingers tightening around the handle of my axe.

I laughed, the sound raw and feral, as the heat of the battle surged through me. "Fighting someone like you, an elite-class, is a rare thrill, Malrik. Keep up the pace—I’m just getting excited."

"You’re as crazy as a devil," he said.

"Being called a devil by a demon? That’s a compliment in my book," I replied, my grin widening. The blood dripping from my wounds only added fuel to my growing excitement.

Ignoring the pain entirely, I launched myself forward, charging as if my body hadn’t been raked by fiery talons moments ago. Pain was nothing new to me; it was an old friend from countless battles.

Malrik’s voice boomed as I closed the distance. "You fool! My familiars are elite-class warriors like me. You’re not fighting just me—you’re taking on three elite-class opponents at once!"

Of course, I already knew that. That was exactly why I was enjoying this fight.

The two gargoyles sprang toward me again, their claws shimmering with molten energy. Spinning on my heel, I turned into a whirlwind, my axe carving through the air with brutal speed.

[Heavenly Demon Upanishad—Second Move: Carnage Spiral]

The force of my spin created powerful vortexes, pushing the flaming beasts back. But I knew better than to think such an attack would be enough to bring down elite-class creatures.

My focus never wavered. I charged straight at Malrik. If I could defeat him, his familiars would vanish. But Malrik wasn’t about to let me have the upper hand.

He met me head-on, his flame sword blazing as he swung it toward me. I parried his first strike with a clash that rang through the air like thunder. His blade was relentless, though, each swing building into a flurry of attacks. I weaved around the strikes, parrying where I could, but his last attack slipped through my guard.

The blade bit into my side, the flames searing my flesh with a hiss. The acrid smell of burning skin filled the air.

I lunged forward, my hand outstretched to grab Malrik. His wings flared wide, and with a powerful flap, he leaped back, narrowly evading my grasp.

But I wasn’t about to let him escape so easily. It was my turn to seize the momentum. Channeling my energy, I activated [Heavenly Demon Upanishad—Fourth Move: Ruinous Charge].

My body surged forward like a streak of lightning, the sheer speed of my dash leaving a shockwave in its wake.

Closing the gap in an instant, I delivered a devastating blow with my axe. Malrik brought his flaming sword up just in time to parry, but the force of my strike sent him staggering back. Before he could recover, I grabbed him by the arm, my grip unyielding. Using the momentum, I spun him like a whirlwind, letting centrifugal force build before hurling him toward the first gargoyle.

The crash echoed like a thunderclap, but I had no time to relish the impact. The second gargoyle closed in, its flaming claws slashing toward me. I twisted my body, dodging the fiery strike by a hair’s breadth, and countered with a powerful hack to its arm.

The gargoyle roared as its limb shattered into molten fragments, but I didn’t stop there. I pressed the attack, striking it again and again with relentless force. My axe cleaved through its fiery form, reducing it to smoldering embers that dissipated into the air.

I straightened my chest, heaving with adrenaline, and scanned the battlefield. Two opponents remained, the first gargoyle and Malrik himself.

I began to walk toward them, the weight of my axe resting comfortably in my hand. Malrik and the gargoyle mirrored my movement, their approach just as slow, as though we were sizing each other up for the next exchange.

Malrik’s voice broke the tense silence. "When one of my gargoyles is defeated," he began, "the other absorbs its power. And at that point, it can unlock its unity skill."

I kept my expression neutral, listening intently. Every summoner worth their salt knew about unity skills—unique abilities granted to their familiars, often turning the tide of battle. Up until now, I’d assumed Malrik was a basic summoner, one who hadn’t pushed his familiars to unlock such skills. But his words suggested otherwise.

It clicked. The gargoyles' unity skill had conditions, limits. Perhaps it could only activate in certain scenarios. Malrik didn’t elaborate on what his familiar’s unity skill entailed, likely to keep me guessing, to plant seeds of caution in my mind.

Then I saw it. The gargoyle’s body began to dissolve, its fiery form shrinking and condensing into pure flame. The heat rose sharply, a furnace-like intensity that sent waves of distortion through the air. The flames surged toward Malrik, enveloping him in a blinding burst of light.

When the flames receded, Malrik stood clad in a full set of flaming armor, its molten edges pulsing with power. His aura flared, a suffocating intensity that made the air feel heavier.

I tightened my grip on my axe, studying him. The gargoyle had fused with Malrik, amplifying his strength.

Malrik’s smirk deepened as his eyes flicked over my bloodstained form. "Those injuries of yours have drained your strength. You’ve got nothing left to keep up this fight."

He wasn’t wrong. My body felt heavy, and the sting of my wounds throbbed with every movement. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t falter. Instead, I smiled, a slow grin that must have unnerved him.

"You might be right," I said, my tone calm, almost amused. "I can’t use a lot of my skills right now. But lucky for me, I don’t need a lot. There’s one that’s perfect for this."

We squared off, the air between us crackling with tension. Malrik raised his sword overhead, flames roaring to life along the blade. The intensity of the heat was suffocating, the light casting long, flickering shadows around us.

I moved with quiet focus, channeling a thin layer of mana to the edge of my axe. Just the edge—that was all I needed. The preparation was minimal, but the precision was everything. I swung my axe in a smooth arc.

Malrik’s confidence betrayed him. He let his guard down. He must have thought my aura was too faint to pose a threat, that my blade lacked the force to penetrate his flame armor.

But this wasn’t just any strike. It was [Heavenly Demon Upanishad—Fifth Move: Soul Severing]. The edge of my axe shimmered, a cold aura emanating from it as I brought it down in a deadly slash.

The coldness met the heat of his armor, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. My axe cut through, bypassing the molten defense as if it were nothing. The blade carved into something far deeper—his very soul.

Malrik’s eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, perhaps to curse, to scream, or to question how I’d done it. But no sound came. His body stiffened as I completed the motion, my axe leaving a trail of frost-like mist in its wake.

Silence fell. His flaming sword slipped from his grasp, the once-roaring flames extinguished as it clattered to the ground. A heartbeat later, Malrik followed, collapsing in a lifeless heap.

I stood there, the cold aura dissipating from my axe, watching as the battlefield grew still once more.

The roar of the crowd began as a low murmur, then swelled into a thunderous wave of cheers. People shouted my name, their voices echoing across the blood-soaked battlefield.

I stepped over Malrik’s lifeless body, planting my boot firmly on his chest. With one clean stroke of my axe, I severed his neck. Blood spilled onto the ground, thick and dark, as I lifted his head high for all to see.

"Behold!" I shouted, my voice carrying over the din of the crowd. "The demon general has fallen!"

The cheers grew deafening. Soldiers pounded their weapons against shields, stomped their feet, and raised their fists in wild celebration. Their faces shone with the firelight of our victory, their voices raw with unbridled excitement.

I seized the momentum, raising Malrik’s severed head even higher. "Today, we celebrate! This is our victory!" I let the weight of my words sink in, then gestured to the battlefield littered with the bodies of demons.

"But let us not stop here!" I bellowed. "Gather the heads of every fallen demon! Let the world see what happens to those who dare to stand against us!"

The atmosphere turned primal, charged with a barbaric energy that no one questioned. Not here. Not now. Bloodlust and adrenaline coursed through the veins of the warriors who had fought and survived. They rushed to obey, hacking at the necks of every demon corpse in sight.

Before long, the battlefield was a macabre display of severed heads, each one held aloft by bloodied hands. I stood at the center of it all, Malrik’s head still gripped firmly in my hand, surrounded by warriors who raised their own prizes in unison.

---

The next morning, the gates of the capital opened before me. The crowd lining the streets erupted into cheers as I passed. My body, wrapped in bandages from neck to toe, throbbed with the lingering pain of my battle against Malrik. Despite my extraordinary healing factor, these injuries would take weeks to mend.

Healing magic from the priests stationed on the battlefield had been of no use. For reasons unknown, their spells would burn me, leaving natural recovery and rare healing resources as my only means of mending. Still, I held my head high, masking the pain with each step as I approached the palace.

Inside, the grand hall was alive with celebration. Lavish decorations adorned every corner, the scent of roasted meats and sweet wine thick in the air. Nobles and courtiers gathered around long banquet tables, their laughter mingling with the music of bards. At the far end of the hall, the king awaited on his golden throne, a red carpet stretching from the doors to his feet.

I walked forward, each step echoing through the grand chamber. As I neared the throne, the nobles fell silent, their eyes fixed on me. I knelt before the king and placed a jar on the carpet.

The king rose, his expression warm as he descended the steps toward me. His hand rested lightly on my head. "You have done well, Count Kyara Vellmont," he said. He then reached for the jar, lifting Malrik’s severed head high for all to see. Gasps filled the room as he turned to the gathered nobles.

"Behold! The head of the demon general, Malrik!" the king declared. "Count Kyara Vellmont has fulfilled his duty beyond all expectations. As promised, I shall grant him his request."

The room buzzed with anticipation. Then the king’s voice rose above the crowd, rich with authority. "Let it be known that this banquet is also an engagement celebration. Count Kyara Vellmont and my daughter, Princess Elira, shall be fiance and fiancee!"

The announcement sent a ripple of excitement through the hall. From her seat beside the throne, Elira leapt up in joy, her golden hair bouncing with the motion. She rushed toward me, her smile radiant, but stopped short as her eyes fell on the bandages wrapped around my body.

Her expression softened with worry. "Count, are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

I smiled, the corners of my mouth lifting despite the dull ache that spread through my chest. "I’ll be alright if you hug me."

Her worry melted into a bright smile. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around me gently, mindful of my injuries. Her embrace made the pain seem distant, replaced by the warmth of love she emitted.